


I Can't be Jealous

by duan-with-your-shitt (soybeez)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Arguing, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, they just need to talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:23:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9158017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soybeez/pseuds/duan-with-your-shitt
Summary: Ransom and Holster go to their first Kegster since graduation. Ransom and Mashkov are hitting it off at the party and, for some reason, that makes Holster mad. This leads to revisiting the attic, Ransom going on dates, and the worst fight in their D-man history.





	1. Welcome to the Party

**Author's Note:**

> All Check Please! characters and the universe belong to the wonderful Ngozi!

“Bro, why don’t we have road trip snacks?”

  
“Because I don’t think that the fifty minute drive to Samwell really counts as a ‘road trip’, Holtzy.”  
Holster pouted, shooting Ransom a big-eyed puppy-dog face. Ransom just rolled his eyes. He was sitting in the passenger seat of Holster’s Rover with his knees pulled to his chest and his chin resting on top. His phone chimed happily and he thumbed it open.

“Chowder wants to know where the fire extinguisher is?” Ransom gave Holster a concerned look. “He said that it wasn’t in the kitchen.”

“Oh yeah, I moved that years ago.” Holster didn’t look the least bit bothered by the fact that they needed the Haus fire extinguisher. “I decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea to leave it up there with a bunch of drunk people after the incident with Jack and the football players. It’s in the basement behind the dryer.”

Ransom nodded thoughtfully, fingers clicking away at the keypad. “Yeah, that makes sense. He sent back three smiley’s, two thumbs ups, another three smileys and a shark emoji.”

“Damn, I love that ray of California sunshine,” Holster said with a sigh. “His cheeks are just so damn squishable.”

“Are we worried at all about why they need a fire extinguisher?”

Holster shook his head, seamlessly changing lanes. “Nah, not at all. Bitty has it handled.”

Alec Baldwin’s voice screaming “Lemon” squawked loudly from Holster’s phone. Ransom took it from the outstretched hand and unlocked it with his thumbprint. “Boatzy wants to know what time to be at the Haus tonight. Eight?”

“Make it eight thirty. You know how weird Bitty gets when people get there before the hand pies are ready.”

“True, true. So, who all from the team is coming tonight?”

“Boatzy and Chip are def gonna be there. Stewie’s coming if his girlfriend’s out of town, but not if she’s in town, and Ringo’s only coming if Stewie is. And Hogs isn’t coming at all because, and I quote, he ‘doesn’t associate with other goalies off of the ice’.”

The two men made eye contact before rolling their eyes and saying, “Goalie’s are so weird,” in unison.

“Can you believe that this is Itty Bitty’s first game with the C? I’m so proud of our little frog.”

“Jack’s probably proud of him too,” Holster said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “How much do you think that Jack’ll have to put in the Sin Bin this time?”

“Bro, as least a hundy.” They laughed as Holster pulled off onto the Samwell exit, debating how many new appliances the Haus would have by the time Bitty graduated.

 

When they pulled up in front of the Haus everyone was standing out on the lawn in a loose circle around a smoldering heap of rubble. Shitty was yelling, tears streaming down his face, Bitty was beaming with a terrible glee, Nursey was laughing, and Chowder was standing next to Bitty, nervously clutching the Haus fire extinguisher.

Ransom unfolded himself from the car, eyes wide. “Dudes, what the fuck is going on?”

“Bitty set the couch on fire!” Shitty screamed. He looked a little crazed with his eyes wide and his stash quivering. His Harvard-esqu elbow-patched blazer made him look like a crazed museum worker. “He fucking doused the thing in lighter fluid and then set it on fucking fire! On the front lawn!”

“I told ya’ll that I would not tolerate that in my Haus as captain. That thing was a health hazard and it had to go.” His brow was wrinkled seriously but his mouth was split into a wide, overly excited grin.

“That was Chowder’s nap couch!” Shitty screamed.

“It gave him a rash!” Bitty hollered back. Chowder’s cheeks flushed and he started stammering out an explanation as the rest of the assembly turned to stare at him. Before Shitty and Bitty could escalate the argument Jack and a couple of Falcs spilled out of the front door carrying cases of cold beer and a large tray of cookies.

Upon seeing Alexi Mashkov Rasom let out an ungodly screech and ran at him. Tater held his arms out, catching the screeching med student in a bear hug and spinning them both around. “Ransom,” Tater bellowed, “so glad see you! Zimboni not tell me you going to be here!”

“Yeah, he didn’t tell me either.” Both men turned to glare incredulously at Jack, whose cheeks flushed pink.

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Ransom grumbled. The two of them still had their arms wrapped around each other.

After giving Jack a quick kiss on the cheek, ‘Fione!’ being bellowed from the crowd, Bitty jogged to the car to help Holster unload the bags of booze filling the trunk.

“I’m so glad that you could come down, Holtzy. A Kegster just wouldn’t be the same without you two. We did use the spreadsheets, of course, but I just don’t know. I’ve never had one of these things without you.”

“You need the D-man super duo,” Holster said with a grin. His eyes fell on Ransom and Tater and his smile faltered. Bitty followed his gaze and the smaller man’s brow creased. “Anyways,” Holster continued, ignoring Bity’s look of concern, “we’ll have to make sure you have everything down. This is final check of your mad Kegster skills. Who knows how many of things Rans and I will be able to go to now.” A shiver ran down Holster’s spine. “Not to freak you out, bro, but being an adult is kind of the worst.”

Bitty groaned loudly. “Adam Birkholtz don’t you use that sort of blasphemous language on my lawn. We are not gonna talk about that right now. There is nowhere close to enough alcohol in my system right now and we have a game to play in a couple of hours.”

“You’ll do great, Bitts,” Holster said, sincerely, grabbing up two bags of bottles. “This may be your first year with the C but you’ve been momming all of us since day one.” Holster hip checked Bitty gently, making him smile. “I do have to know, though, why did Rans and I have to bring all of the alcohol? This was like a hundy’ fifty bucks.”

“Oh, I think you can afford that with your fancy NHL salary,” Bitty said loftily. “Plus, think of it as pie payback.”

 

 

Holster sat at the kitchen table with Jack, Shitty, and Snowy as Bitty flitted around the kitchen baking mini pies. Chowder was asleep on the New Couch in the living room, an extra-long thing in Samwell red that looked way too nice to be in a hockey frat house. When asked, Bitty said that the money came from the Sin Bin, but Jack’s small smirk said otherwise. The two of them were so adorable it made Holster a little nauseated. And a little sad. He wished that he had someone that looked at him like Jack looked at Bitty.

“Hotzy!” Ransom slung an arm over Holster’s shoulders, resting his chin on the top of Holster’s head. “Is our stuff still in the car? I wanna show Tater something.”

“Um, yeah, it’s still in the car. I didn’t know where we would be bunking.”

“Oh, honey, ya’ll are gonna be up in your old room. Dex and Nursey will stay with Whiskey and Chowder’s gonna spend the night with Farmer so Shitty and Lardo can stay in his room.”

“Because they’re in lo-uv!” Ransom sing-songed. Shitty flipped him the bird but said nothing. There was a wide, goofy grin plastered over his face.

Holster suddenly felt very alone. He grabbed another beer from the open box sitting on the kitchen table.

“I think that Samwell games needs a SOAP’s section,” Shitty said, waving his beer dramatically.

“SOAPs?” Snowy asked.

“Significant Others and Partners. A less gender specific WAGs.”

Snowy nodded his approval. “That’s fucking right.”

“Anyway, I think that we need one at Faber. Because when I come to these games I have to sit who the fuck knows where, and that just isn’t acceptable. I need to be on the ice where I can really see the game. Smell it. Taste it!”

“You want to taste a hockey game?” Snowy raised an eyebrow skeptically. Much like Nursey he looked perpetually tired and too ‘chill’ for his own good and, although he denied it, Holster was pretty sure that he wore eyeliner.

“You bet your sweet, well toned ass that I want to taste it. I want to taste the passion!” He downed the last of his beer and slammed it into the table, crushing it with his fist. “And as a big damn significance in Jack’s life I am, by extension, a significant member of Bitty’s life, and think that I deserve recognition for that.”

“I got Coach Hall to reserve you all a block by the bench. We need all of the support we can get for this first game. That and you boys can be louder than a pack of roosters at sunrise and I don’t wanna get any more complaints about it.” He took a deep breath, eyes darting around the room. “The frogs aren’t in here to I can tell you guys, but I am pretty darn nervous. This is my first real game as captain and I just don’t know if I can do it.” Bitty rang the dishtowel nervously in his hands, pulling it to his chest. Standing up from the table Jack wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, pressing his lips onto the top of Bitty’s blonde hair.

“Of course you’ll do a great job, Bitts. Being captain isn’t really that hard, is it Holster?”

“Not at all. Easy as pie.”

“And we all know that Itty Bitty knows his pie,” Ransom crooned.

Rolling his eyes dramatically Bitty gave Jack a quick kiss. “Ransom I am twenty-one years old and five foot-six. I am not itty in any way, ya’ll are all just a bunch of giants.”

In response Jack picked Bitty up, threw the smaller man over his shoulder, and started running through the Haus. Bitty was screaming and kicking but still laughing as Jack burst out from the kitchen into the living room. Holster’s chest hurt a little bit.

 

 

“Jack, honey, I’m just fine,” Bitty said for the eighteenth time as Jack hovered over him, a frown pulling a crease into his forehead. “I didn’t even get hit that hard. No concussion or anything.”

“Your nose is broken, Bitts.” There was a desperate pain in Jack’s voice that none of them had heard before.

Flapping his hand as if it would bat away the worry Bitty wandered into the kitchen. “This is my fourth year playing D1 collegiate hockey, honey, it was about time that something happened. Besides, I think I gave as good as I got. Nursey said I managed to elbow him in the face.”

“Yeah you did!” Shitty bellowed. He threw himself at Bitty, wrapping his arms around Bitty’s neck. The noise that came from the back of Jack’s throat would have most accurately been described as a growl. Shitty let go. “But really Jacky boy, Bitts probably gave the guy his own black eye.”

“If Bitty didn’t Dex sure did. I saw that check you gave him the next period.” Holster ruffled the red head’s hair, which made the younger man grimace in annoyance, but a small smirk still played on his mouth.

“Yeah, well, no one gets to fuck with our captain.”

“That’s fucking right they don’t!”

“We aren’t having a party.” Jack’s tone brooked no arguments. He was using his captain voice and, as a man who had worn the C or A for the last three and half of five years playing hockey, he was used to his captain voice being listened to. Bitty’s bruised eyes narrowed dangerously. The splint around his nose and the rapidly darkening bruises under his eyes made him look like an angry raccoon.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, we are not canceling this party because I have a black eye. The medic said my nose would be fine, they straightened it out and everything, and that all I needed was a couple of Tylenol for pain. This is an Opening Kegster, the first of my career, and we are going to have it. We won the game and Whiskey got two goals and that boy barely comes to the Haus as is and I am not giving him another reason to hate us. We are having this dadgum party and you are going to have a good time.” With his hands on his hips and his mouth pulled into a frown he stared menacingly up at his boyfriend.

Sighing heavily with defeat Jack fell into a kitchen chair, pulling Bitty into his lap. It was almost comical how easily Jack gave in to his boyfriend, how quickly his stoic captain face softened. Holster’s eyes got wide but he managed to restrain himself from screaming “fine”. Bitty was injured; Holster would give them this. “Okay, Bitts, but no drinking. You should never mix alcohol with concussions.”

“But I don’t have a concussion. It’s just my nose, hon.”

“No tub juice,” Jack wheedled.

“Deal. That stuff is poison anyway.”

“Hey!” Shitty said, affronted. “Tub juice is the shit.”

“It might be good but it’s still poison, Shitts.” Handing Bitty an icepack Lardo hauled herself onto the kitchen counter. She had kept a fully stocked first aid kit in the basement, which was used a little too regularly for everyone’s comfort. “Your face is gonna be a gnarly mess tomorrow, Bitts. It’s gonna look ‘swasome.”

“Between the messed up nose and the couch bonfire from yesterday all the Lax Bros are gonna be scared shittless of Bitty. You should have seen them yesterday when we torched the thing. The Chad’s were watching from their front yard and Bitty had the terrifying, manic grin on his face when he dropped a literal fucking torch on the fucking thing.” Nursey took a long pull on his beer, grinning.

“Fuuuuuck, the Lax Bros!” Shitty shouted, throwing his head back in victory. When the rest of the team, past and present, joined in on the chant Tater laughed while Snowy looked vaguely concerned. Then again he almost always looked vaguely concerned.

“As true as that is, ya’ll have to be nice tonight. Whiskey is bringing one of his, friends, tonight.” Even Bitty couldn’t keep the sneer out of his voice at the thought of a lax bro in his Haus.

“You’ve gotta calm down, Shitts,” Holster said, bear hugging the crazed Harvard Law student. He had lunged slightly at Bitty before Holster had grabbed him. “If you touch Itty Bitty, Jack’s gonna kill you and then we’re gonna have to burry your body and that would put a huge damper on the partying mood.”

“Yeah Shitts, chill. It isn’t one of the Chads. The freshman aren’t really that bad.”

“You’ve met them? They’ve been in the Haus? What the ever-loving fuck has happened since I left. The by-laws. It’s in the fucking bylaws!”

“The bylaws say ‘fuck the lax bros’. That’s what I’m doing.” Strolling into the kitchen Whiskey opened the fridge, pulled out a Gatoraid, and propped himself next to Lardo on the counter. Shitty looked like he was having a stroke.  
The room was quiet as everyone stared at Whiskey. Finally, Bitty broke the tension with a loud sigh and an eye roll so deep his pupils momentarily disappeared. “He’s paid his fine and Fox really isn’t that bad.”

“He told you that he liked your pies, didn’t he?” Holster squinted his eyes skeptically.

Flustered, Bitty waved his hand towel in Holster’s direction. “That boy said that my pies were better than his grandmother’s. His grandmother, Holtzy. I would kiss him if I were not in a committed, long-term relationship.”

“That’s rough, bro. I don’t know who any of you are anymore.”

“It’s okay, bro,” Lardo soothed, smoothing a hand over Shitty’s hair. “Times, they are a’changing.”

“Okay, enough about Whiskey’s low-key disturbing sex life. The senior council has fined him appropriately so we have other things to discuss. Shitty, how’s the tub juice going?”

Dejected, Shitty looked up at Holster with sad, broken eyes. “It’s brewing, bro. And there are Jell-O shots in the fridge.”

“Dude, swasome. Rans, you got the playlist?”

“Aye aye, co-capitan. The speakers are set up and ready to go.”

“Ransom and I set up the tables for beer pong,” Tater added. He was leaning against Ransom like a large dog, one arm thrown casually over Ransom’s shoulders.

“Well,” Bitty said, bustling away from Jack and to the fridge, “people are gonna start showing up in about an hour so you boys better have everything ready.”

 

 

Holster watched miserably as Ransom and Tater played beer pong against Lardo and Snowy. Of course Lardo was winning and, as the ball flew gracefully into the final cup, Snowy let out a victorious whoop and spun her around in a wide circle.

“Suck it Tater!” Snowy screamed. Grinning, Tater flipped him the bird, throwing his arm over Ransom’s shoulders. While Lardo and Snowy stayed to defend their title against the current SMH D-man team the two losers wound their way through the crowd. Ransom had his head thrown back in a laugh, his eyes squinty and bright. Holster downed his beer quickly.

“Hey, Holtzy!” Looking up Holster saw two large men making their way towards him. The one who had called out pulled Holster into a masculine, one-armed hug. “You weren’t kidding when you said that this would be a party. Damn man.”

“Boatzy, I told you SMH Kegsters were the shit. Chip, how you doing man?” Holster shook the other man’s hand. He had a Bruins baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and his fists shoved deep into the pockets of a leather jacket. He looked uncomfortable in the loud, overfull hockey Haus. Holster threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, throwing an arm out wide. “You’ve gotta embrace it, Chip. You’re what, 21? There are so many honies here for you to check out bro. The volleyball team is especially fine. You need to talk to Farmer to see who to scope out. Farms!”

At Holster’s bellow Farmer looked up and finger waved at him. Disengaging from Chowder, pulling him into a whistle-worthy kiss before pulling away, she made her way over to the trio of Bruins players. “Holtzy, hey, good to see you again.” She wrapped her arms around the blonde’s shoulders and pulled him into a quick hug. “What’s up?”

“I’m trying to hook Chip up with someone tonight. He’s another rookie on the team. Who’s available?”

Farmer rolled her eyes, but surveyed the crowd regardless. “Okay, Taylor only comes to these things if she wants to hook up, but you have to catch her before her fourth drink or she shuts that all down. Cassidy has her moods so she’ll either kiss you or tell you to go to hell. Andrea just broke up with her boyfriend and is trying to hook up but not with anyone that she’ll ever have to see again. Will she ever have to see you again?”  
All three of them turned to Chip, who looked shell shocked. “Um, I guess not?” he said after a long moment, voice thin and high. “I live in Boston.”  
Farmer laughed. “I mean will you try to see her again?”

“I wouldn’t have to?” He didn’t sound convinced, though. “I would go Cassidy first, then, and lead with the professional hockey player thing.” With a shove Chip stumbled off into that general direction. Holster’s grin at his teammates flustered flirting fell the instant he saw Ransom.

Loose limbed and grinning Ransom melted over Mashkov. One arm was thrown over the Russian’s broad shoulders, a hand splayed over his chest. Mashkov let out a booming laugh, his head thrown back, and Ransom’s head dropped onto his shoulder. A weird irritation rose in Holster, his mood souring. Why did Ransom always have to do this? Why did he always have to be so? So? Holster shook his head, trying to push out the biting thoughts that were starting to push through his brain. Ransom was a grown ass man who could do whatever, and whoever, the fuck he wanted. Finishing his drink Holster clasped Boatzy on the shoulder.

“Come on, I need to introduce you to tub juice.”

It used to be a big deal when a professional hockey player showed up at a Haus Party, but with Jack coming to every SMH game for the last year and now the Bruins joining the Falcs at SMH events, some of the novelty had worn off. Lardo still made it her mission in life to destroy every hockey bro in the vicinity in beer pong and they would all occasionally get pulled into selfies, but most of the hype was gone. So when Holster pulled Boatzy onto the porch for a drink he was surprised to hear a gasp of recognition. A small blonde waved at him from the steps, her face pink with cold and alcohol.

“Adam, hey!” With the use of his first name he realized that it wasn’t someone who knew him from hockey, but from class. Elise pressed through the group of people standing by the large cooler holding the booze, Shitty yelling at someone about ‘fucking tortes’, and let a hand land loosely on his arm.

“It’s so good to see you! How are things since graduation? What are you up to?”

She was leaning heavily on his arm, looking up at him through long lashes. “Things are pretty good. I moved up to Boston and I play for the Bruins now. This is Boatzy, one of my teammates. Elise was in my business writing class my last semester. It was hell.”

“It was the absolute worst. And that’s so cool!” Elise cooed, her grip tightening on his arm. “I knew that you could go pro.” She giggled at herself. “I can’t believe that I jus said ‘go pro’. But that’s super awesome.”

The three of them talked for awhile, Elise steadily getting closer and closer to Holster. After about fifteen minutes Boatzy begged off with a wink, using the excuse that he had to go check on Chip.

“He seemed really nice,” Elise said. “Do you like playing up there?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty ‘swasome. We’re still kinda in pre-season, our first real game is next weekend, but so far it’s been pretty great. The team’s amazing and Boston has some fucking great food. How’s your last year going?”

“It’s pretty great. My orgo class sucks ass, but otherwise my semester is going pretty well. Next semester’s gonna be rough but it’s the end of the line, which is terrifying.”

They talked about her plans for grad school and how she couldn’t wait to move to a bigger city. She was hoping maybe D.C. or New York. “So, I’ve never seen you at a Kegster. What got you here?”

“Caitlin Farmer told me I needed to check it out. Her boyfriend’s the goalie.”

“Oh, I know Farms. She is literally one of the best bros ever. Great wing-person. How do you know her? You’re not on the volleyball team.”

“We’re in the same major so we have a lot of classes together. She’s been talking about these hockey parties for years but I always felt kind of weird coming to these things. They are so fun when you’re single though.”

“You broke up with Andrew?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, awhile ago. It just wasn’t working for us. It’s definitely better this way.”

The smile that she gave Holster made his stomach flip. Her hand hadn’t left his arm for the last half hour and his had made its way from her back down to her ass and she was pressed up so closely to him that he could smell the vanilla from her shampoo. It smelled like Ransom’s body wash.

“You used to live here, right? Want to give me a tour?” Holster almost politely declined. She was beautiful and nice and really damn funny but he was a little tired and had this weird, hollow feeling in his chest that made him feel like something there was missing. Before he could say anything Ransom fell through the front door, pulling Mashkov with him. The Russian was laughing, his hands spread wide around Ransom’s hips, his eyes bright as he let his mouth fall against the top of Ransom’s head. Holster’s vision went a little blurry, a red heat rising in his chest. The empty feeling increased to the point of a physical pain.

“I would love to give you a tour. If we’re lucky there might even be some mini pies left in the kitchen.” As the pair went back inside Ransom tried to catch Holster’s attention, one fist reaching out for a pound. Holster ignored it and kept walking.


	2. French Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holster's jealous, Ransom's confused, and Bitty doesn't know what to do with his dumb boys except make them breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta, Benjios, for reading this! And thank you to the ever wonderful Ngozi for creating this amazing universe.

Ransom didn’t understand. The look on Holster’s face had been withering. Ransom’s face fell, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” Mashkov asked, his mouth close to Ransom’s ear to be heard over the crowd and the thump of bass coming from inside the Haus. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Ransom pulled a smile onto his face. He was not going to let whatever that was upset him. Honestly, he was probably just imagining it. Holster’s look probably hadn’t been bad at all: it was just a trick of the light or the alcohol running thick through his blood stream. It would all be fine. 

Elaine had her mouth against Holster’s neck before they made it to the second floor. Her lips were soft and warm and pressing hard against his skin. She still smelled like vanilla and one of the straps of her dress had slid off her shoulder. He pushed it into place with his thumb, kissing her shoulder as he did so. She breathed hot onto his neck and he could feel the heat starting to pool in his stomach. 

“So you used to live here. Which room was yours?” 

“The attic.” His voice had gone a little hoarse. She had pulled her lower lip between her teeth and Holster was suddenly thinking much less about Ransom and much more about her. “Yeah, the attic.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“All I’m saying is that he better not be having sex in my bed,” Dex growled, glaring up the stairs. 

“Dude, chill, it’s not like he hasn’t had sex there before. It did used to be his bed.” 

“I know that, but it’s my bed now, with my sheets on it. Plus, I flipped the mattress so all his nasty fluids are on the other side and not the one I’m sleeping on.” 

Nursey laughed, dropping his head to Dex’s shoulder. “That’s why you never sleep on the bottom bunk, bro, that’s the sex bunk. Everyone knows it. Hey, Rans, isn’t the bottom bunk always the sex bunk?”

Ransom looked up from the game of flip cup he was playing against Lardo and Shitty. Alexi was downing the last cup anyway, so it didn’t really matter. “Oh, yeah, duh dude. Have you ever tried having sex that far off the floor? Not good times, my friend.” 

“I told you,” Nursey sing-songed. Dex screamed into his cup. “Holster’s getting it on in your bed,” Nurse chirped, poking Dex in the side with each word. “Holster’s getting his fluids all over your sheets.” Dex looked like he was going to throttle Nursey, who kept skipping out of his reach.

Feeling sick to his stomach Ransom watched as Dex chased Nursey through the living room and out onto the porch. There was no reason that he should be upset that Holster was upstairs with some girl. This was not a new thing. There had been so many girls up in that attic over the three years they lived there that they started keeping spare toothbrushes in the second floor bathroom. Since they had graduated, though, neither one of them had slept with anybody. Ransom had been too busy with med school, the constant crush of it making him want to bash his head into a wall, and Holster’s pre-season was a whirlwind; there just hadn’t been any time for them to meet anyone. So Ransom shouldn’t have any feelings one way or another about Holster getting it on in their old room, but he did. 

“I need another drink,” he told Alexi, spinning away from the table. “You want one?” pushing his way outside Ransom gulped down fresh, cold air, pulling it into his lungs with excessive force. His head was spinning and he felt a little ill. This was stupid. Feeling this way was so, so stupid. 

Before he could get himself too worked up he felt an arm fall heavily over him. “You okay Ransom?” Alexi sounded concerned. Looking up, Ransom couldn’t help but smile. How could he be so wrapped up in Holster to ignore what was standing right in front of him? 

“I’m great. Let’s grab another drink and then go dance. The playlist is about to get good.” 

Ransom loved the feel of hot breath on his neck and the way that Mashkov’s hand covered his hip. It was a new sensation to have someone leaning over him when they danced, to have someone’s shoulders be wider than his and their hips a little higher set. He might be used to Holster but he wasn’t used to Holster like this, pressed up against him on a dance floor with a hot thumb running a pattern across his back on the strip of skin between his t-shirt and his jeans. Taking a deep breath he pushed a little closer towards Tater. He needed to stop thinking about Holster. 

He pressed his hips closer to Tater’s, put his mouth to Tater’s ear. “Are you and Snowy going back to Providence tonight?” 

Tater shook his head. His lips turned up into a full, sly smile and Ransom couldn’t help the flip that it turned in his stomach. “Bitty said we come over for breakfast in morning and I am not saying no to Bitty breakfast. We stay in hotel downtown. Not very far away.” 

“That’s good. It would suck to have to drive back tonight.” Ransom didn’t know what he was saying. It sounded dumb and like something you would say to that awkward third cousin that you know nothing about but still have to talk to at Christmas. The problem was that he really liked Mashkov. He was smart and funny and fine as fuck. He seemed to be just as into Ransom as Ransom was into him. It made Ransom feel like he was back in high school with a crush on the quarterback. A very tall and handsome Russian quarterback. 

But Alexi didn’t seem to care. All he seemed to care about was the movement of Ransom’s lips, his eyes latching onto Ransom’s mouth. After a beat Alexi ran his tongue over his own bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. Ransom could feel a tightness in his jeans and a heat in his stomach. The reality of what Ransom was doing hit him with a sudden force. He was a Harvard med student at a party at his old team Haus grinding on professional hockey player Alexi Mashkov. If his hands hadn’t been plastered to Tater’s ass Ransom would have pinched himself. 

“Snowy has own room,” Tater murmured, grinding his hips into Ransom’s, “if you would like come to mine. We can talk.” 

“Yeah,” Ransom said, his breathe catching in his chest. “Yeah, I would be down for that.” He was suddenly glad that he hadn’t listened to Holtzy and instead had left his stuff in the car. Tater called an Uber and on the way out Ransom grabbed his overnight bag. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Holster and Elaine were up in the attic for about an hour before they stumbled down the stairs with messy hair and rumbled clothes. Dex glared, Nursey smirked, and Bitty wore a pittying, confused look that Holster couldn’t quite decipher. 

“It looks like the party’s winding down,” Elaine laughed nervously, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I think I’m going to head out, but it was really great to see you again. Let me know if you’re back in Samwell and want to grab a coffee or something. Catch up again, ya know.” Standing up on her tip-toes she gave Holster a quick kiss before weaving her way out the front door. As soon as she was gone Dex started screaming. 

“I can’t believe that you had sex in my bed! That is so gross, dude. Like, I know that you used to live up there and screw all of the time, but it’s my bed now, Holster, mine. You just don’t do that bro!”

Nursey, a few drinks past the limit set out by Nursey Patrol, threw his arms around Dex’s neck and glued himself to the redhead’s back. “Bro, you just need to chiiiiillllll.” 

“Nurse, I fucking swear, if you don’t let go of me…”

“Dex, bro, relax. I didn’t have sex in your bed. I mean, we made out in your bed a little, chyah, but it was over the clothes kinda shit. First base only, I swear.” 

Squinting his eyes meanly Dex leaned back against Nursey. Nursey’s thumb started rubbing a circle pattern over Dex’s breastbone. The motion made the redhead visibly relax. “See, Dexy, he didn’t have hot, crazy sex in your bed. You need to be more chillsies bro.” Dex rolled his eyes so far back in his head that Holster was a little concerned, but Dex didn’t push Nursey off. He even smiled a little bit. 

Holster combed his hand through his hair. He tried and failed to make it look less sex-tousled. “Have you seen Ransypoo?” 

Jack and Bitty exchanged a look. It was one of those looks that couples managed to have full conversations with. Jack shrugged and then winced. Bitty’s shoulders slumped forward and he downed the rest of his drink before placing a hand on Holster’s arm. “Um, honey, he left.”

Holster squinted in confusion. “What do you mean he left? Where did he go?” 

“He and Tater went back to the hotel.” 

For a moment Holster wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. There was a weird whooshing in his ears, like the sound of rushing water. “What?” he shouted, shaking his head like a golden retriever trying to get water out of its ears. 

“They went back to Tater’s hotel room. They’ll be back for breakfast though,” he added, as if it would help. It didn’t help. Holster still felt like he had been checked face first into the boards. 

“Oh, okay then. As long as he’s back for the ride home.” In a fog Holster wandered through the house, pouring himself a cup of beer from the keg, chugging it, and refilling it. He downed that one, too. 

Holster felt a warm hand falling back on his arm. Bitty peered up at him with concern. “You okay, honey?” 

“Of course I’m okay.” Tossing his head Holster plastered on a large, dopey grin. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be, bro? I’m playing professional hockey, not for the Sabres but I’ll live, I live less than an hour from all of my best bros, and I’m at a ‘swasome party with all of my old teammates. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” 

It took Bitty a lot not to say it. Seeing Holster like this broke his heart, but he didn’t know what to say. Holster and Ransom’s relationship had always been a little confusing. They had always been very close and touchy and over shared a little too much, but they had always been a team. Even when they argued over things like length of showers and the existence of ghosts and when to turn the lights out, they had never been like this. Holster had never looked so, well, defeated. But Bitty knew that talking about feelings was the last thing that Holster wanted to do so, instead, Bitty just shrugged and poured him another drink. 

After another beer Holster found Boatzy, Snowy, and Chowder discussing the Shark’s ability to make it to the Stanley Cup finals. Chip had bowed out a while ago with Cassidy to ‘go check out the volleyball house’. Farmer had promised to have him back at the Haus for breakfast. 

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Ransom didn’t come home that night. Holster lay on his back, staring up at the bottom of Ransom’s old bed, unable to sleep. Sure, this wasn’t a new thing. Ransom had spent the night out of the Haus dozens of times, when he was dating March Holster barely saw him after dinner and before breakfast, but this felt different. This was different because this was with a guy. Sure, Holster had always known that Ransom was bisexual. He had known since day one, but Ransom hadn’t ever dated a man at Samwell. And now that he was it made Holster feel, well, some feelings, and Holster was not someone to evaluate his feelings.

When he thought about it, really made himself sit down and think about it, he did have feelings for Ransom. And they weren’t just the bro-y feelings that he had for the rest of the SMH team, these were some Feelings™. Feelings that he had stomped down over the years for several reasons.

Reasons that Adam ‘Holster’ Birkholtz has stamped down his Feelings™ for Justin ‘Ransom’ Oluransi for the years of 2013-2017  
1\. Holster and Ransom were teammates  
a. Not only were they teammates but they were the first string D-Man pair on the same line  
2\. Holster and Ransom were Best Bros™  
a. Like, the best of bros. Holster was pretty sure that they would win an award if there were one  
3\. Holster and Ransom were roommates  
a. Not only did they live in the same room in the same house but they literally slept on top of each other 

Holster had edited the list over the years, but the main facts remained the same: he had been madly in love with Justin ‘Ransom’ Oluransi since day one of their friendship and had convinced himself that there would be 0 chance of any relationship between them and that to act on it would just ruin everything. So he hadn’t acted on it, and he was okay with it because even thought Ransom had told him that he was bisexual there had never been a boyfriend. And since there had never been a boyfriend Holster could tell himself that Ransom wasn’t rejecting him, Holster, specifically but that Ransom just wasn’t into 6’4” hockey players that could bench press his weight. It wasn’t anything personal, he just wasn’t Ransom’s type. Holster could live with that. Alexi Mashkov changed that. 

Now that Ransom was, involved, with Tater it made Holster think about the possibilities. Holster knew Ransom’s type when it came to women, and apparently when it came to men it was large, buff, Russian hockey players. So, basically, Ransom was currently hooking up with a brunette Holster with an accent. Maybe if Holster drained the rest of the keg downstairs he would get drunk enough to black out and forget about it. 

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As always, After Kegster Breakfast was an event. The smell of coffee, pancakes, and bacon hit Holster in the face as he half stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen. Bitty was wearing a pair of cutoff shorts and a too-big Falcs workout shirt that was obviously Jack’s. His hair was rumpled and he was humming along to Beyoncé while Jack whisked up eggs to be scrambled. The way that Jack looked at Bitty was almost a fineable offense in and of itself. He had these big, dewy heart eyes and his mouth was turned up into a small, private smile that Holster almost felt weird seeing. This was not stoic Captain Jack, or even dorky Falcs Jack, this was a Jack that Holster had never seen before. Boyfriend Jack. 

Bitty turned, beaming at the still frowning Holster. “Good morning, hun! Coffee’s ready and breakfast will be on in about ten minutes. At least that’s when it’s supposed to start.” His eyes squinted darkly and for a brief second Holster was a little afraid. The rest of SMH may have considered Bitty itty, but they all had a healthy fear of the small Southern man when he got ‘the Bitty Glare’. “No one else is down yet.” 

Pushing his glasses up his nose with an index finger Holster poured himself a cup of coffee and dropped into a kitchen chair. “Don’t worry Bitts, they’ll be here. We all saw what happened to the couch.” 

Before Bitty could respond, one hand already on a hip, Dex and Nursey stumbled into the kitchen. “I still don’t get why we had to change rooms. Wouldn’t it have made more sense for Rans and Holtz to just bunk with Whiskey?”

“You two know Whiskey better, it makes more sense,” Bitty said tiredly, and it was obvious that this wasn’t the first time that they had this discussion. 

“Whiskey didn’t even stay here last night. He ended up with Fox across the street and I had to share the bed with Nursey. I have drool on me!” Dex growled, shoving Nursey away from him. He poured two cups of coffee, filling one with enough pumpkin spice creamer to make it a pale tan. Frowning in disgust he passed it to Nursey and sat next to him. Nursey’s head flopped onto Dex’s shoulder but the redhead didn’t shake him off. 

Slowly the rest of the team and guests started filing into the kitchen. Shitty and Lardo were wearing matching ducky sweaters, Chowder and Farmer had a confused looking Chip in tow, and when Whiskey breezed in through the front door he was holding hands with the small lacrosse player from the night before. Shitty glared at him from the counter, his mustache quivering with rage. Lardo rolled her eyes affectionately and patted his hand. 

“Hey, this is Fox.” Whiskey handed him a glass of orange juice. “He’s the new Lax team manager.”

“Bro, yeah, team manager fist bump.” Lardo held up a fist despite Shitty’s glare. 

“Fox, honey, you need some coffee? I’m making another pot.” 

There was a loud thumping from the front of the house and Tater and Ransom tumbled into the kitchen, laughing. Ransom was wheezing he was laughing so hard and Tater practically had to hold him up. The two collapsed into one of the chairs that Bitty dragged into the kitchen. The same chair. Ransom ended up half sprawled across Tater’s lap. Holster’s coffee had gone suddenly bitter. 

“Thank you for breakfast, Bitty. I not tell Nate that we eat this.” 

“Oh lordy, please don’t. Your nutritionist already hates me enough as it is. Your pancakes are whole-wheat and I have turkey sausage. You boys need to eat your fruit.”

Beaming, Snowy looked up at Bitty as if he had hung the moon. “Is that chocolate chip stuffed French toast?” 

“Sure is.” 

Clasping Jack on the shoulder Snowy shook his head apologetically. “Sorry Zimmboni, but I am officially starting my ‘Steal Eric Bittle away from Zimmermann because this man is a fucking gift’ plan right now.”

Jack sipped from his Falcs mug, laughing, but his arm still wrapped tightly around Bitty’s waist. Rolling his eyes Bitty pressed closer into his boyfriend’s side. A satisfied smirk curled his lips and he pressed a quick kiss into the corner of Jack’s mouth. 

Holster missed this. He missed chirping and team breakfast and post-kegster gossip sessions over cleanup. He missed having someone to binge reality TV with and having Bitty’s baked goods and just, this. He missed all of this. Samwell was over and SMH was over and he had been thrown into the whirlwind that was real life and he hated it. The only thing that he had left of his old life, the most important thing, was Ransom and even that wasn’t the same. They were both busy and overwhelmed and overworked and they barely had time together as it was. And now, with Mashkov, there was going to be even less of it. Even Bitty’s buttermilk pancakes couldn’t make the bitter taste in his mouth go away. 

“Bitty, man, you have no idea how happy I am that you’re sending me and Holtzy home with pies. We just finished the last of our stockpile and I have midterms coming up. I don’t think that I would be able to make it through test season without pie.”

“Now that Zimmboni on team with Bitty I don’t think I could go through playoffs without pie. Zimmboni can’t ever leave team.” 

“Oh Tater, honey, you know that I would still make you pie even if Jack left the team.”

“Okay Zimboni guess team don’t need you now.”

Jack scowled but he couldn’t help the laugh that barked out a few second later. Ransom shifted in Tater’s lap, leaning forward to grab a piece of bacon. He started to slip to one side when an arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back upright. Chuckling, Ransom shoved the bacon into his mouth, his fingers lacing through the other man’s. They were in their own little world, laughing at each others jokes and chirping the rest of the group with a gleeful ferocity. Tater had this delighted, goofy grin plastered over his face and Ransom was more himself than he had been since med school started. And that was when it hit Holster; over the French toast and Jack’s small batch roasted Providence coffee Holster realized that for the first time since they had moved to Boston that Ransom looked happy and relaxed and just like himself. 

He was going to have to shove it all down. Knocking back a mouthful of coffee Holster came to the conclusion that he was just going to have to put on his big kid pants and push his feelings back down in the back of his mind where they belonged. It was going on five years that he had known Ransom and he had been in love with the stupid Canadian dork practically since day one, even if he hadn’t realized it. Even if it was going to kill him he was going to be happy and supportive of his best friend, dammit. Pasting a jocular grin on his face Holster laughed loudly at one of Shitty’s jokes and poured maple syrup on his French toast. He was going to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These dumb boys don't know how to talk about their feelings. Especially Holster. Who has Feelings™, but doesn't exactly know how to explain it. We've all been there, bro. Next up we get a tension filled ride home.


End file.
